


Put Another X On The Calendar

by vicesgerard



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco, Paramore
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Physical Abuse, The Calendar, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-02-09 19:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12894768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vicesgerard/pseuds/vicesgerard
Summary: In which after Ryan left Panic! Brendon is left alone to pick up the pieces.Written in letters and chapters from both Brendon and Ryan's points of view.





	1. Prologue

Imagine smiling after a slap in the face, then think of doing it twenty-four hours a day. Like most misery, mine started with apparent happiness. I was a teenage kid with a mom who was an alcoholic, a dad who was a drug addict, and an older sister who was never home.  
I used to think that was hard. Little did I know. I thought that things couldn't get worse, but I was so far from the truth. Which is, things can always get worse. And more often than not, they do.  
Brendon Boyd Urie was the worst thing that ever happened to me. But, he was also the hardest to let go of. There was something about him that always pulled me back to him quicker than a boomerang. May it be his strong arms, his loving voice, or his hair that was so easy to run your fingers through, I may never know.  
He was perfection, and that's what always caused everyone's downfall. At first, he seemed like the sweetest person ever, only to turn into a deadly poison that would burn your lungs until there was nothing left.  
That's what happened to me, and as I continuously write these letters, things are getting worse. I'm deteriorating until I'm physically nothing, and there's nothing left.


	2. Letter One

Dear Brendon--  
So. Here we are, huh. You ran off after people found out our relationship had been abusive. I still have bruises on my arm in the shape of your fingerprints, they probably won't ever go away. I keep placing my smaller hands where your larger ones lay, pressing down until the blood rises to the surface.  
I'm the reason they'll never completely lose their purple bruise color, I'm not letting them leave. Even though our relationship was rocky, I don't want to lose you. These bruises tell me that you actually existed, that you weren't just a figment of my imagination. I hadn't dreamed you up from my story books.  
Sure, our albums are complete proof that you existed, but they aren't proof that you were mine. They aren't proof that in the early days of our relationship at night you would lie next to me whispering that you loved me in my ear.  
They aren't proof that those hours of car karaoke as we drove to Spence's place existed. The bruises are, though, as no one else had hands like yours.  
Yours were perfect for messing with my hair, interlocking with my tinier hands, and massaging circles on my back as I cried. My hands were perfect for rubbing sweat from your forehead when you were nervous before shows, tracing unknown shapes on the backs of your hands, or holding your cheeks as I placed soft kisses against your lips.  
Spence is great and all, but you were my best friend and there's no doubt about it. You were the one I called at midnight when Mom passed away from over-consumption of alcohol. You were the one that promised me I'd be alright as you drove me and my sister Nicky to Dad's new home in Wisconsin.  
You were the one that told me that everything would be alright. You told me that I wouldn't die after the accident. You held on.  
So why are you gone? Why aren't you here by my side telling me things will be okay now? Why am I alone with no safety line to hold on to as I walk along the edge of this rocky cliff? Why am I free falling through space with no one to catch me?  
Love,  
Ryan Ross


	3. Chapter One

"Ry, c'mon," I laugh as I lean into my boyfriend's shoulder on the damp summer grass. "Ryro, give me a chance to wow you," I sigh and shrug as he takes my arm and points it up at the sky. "I have been listening to you whenever you tell me about the constellations, that one's Orion." I laugh as he makes me point to Cassiopeia.  
"Bren, babe, that's Cassiopeia, not Orion," I move my arm in the other direction to point at Orion. "That one's Orion, with his belt." Brendon sighs, nuzzling his face into my neck.  
"Will I ever get it right?" I smile, looking up at the millions of stars above us. They sparkle, almost like an uncountable amount of crushed diamonds. Bren always told me he loved the stars because they twinkled like the sparks in my eyes.  
"I know you will at some point, love," I mumble as I close my eyes and drift off to sleep in his arms.

"Ross, stop spacing out, we've gotta work." I look up at Andy as he and Jon sit working on lyrics. My bandmates share a look before continuing to work together on the words for a new song. My thoughts can't seem to stay in one place as I brainstorm ideas with the guys. "We have got to get these finished before White and Nick get here for practice,"  
"I know, I know," I roll my pencil between my fingers as I try to think. No lyrics come to mind as the others continue to quickly write things down. I haven't been able to write since the breakup. The last time that lyrics really came to me that made sense was Northern Downpour, and that was over a year and a half ago.   
My songwriting hasn't been the same since. I look up as Jon lets out an exasperated sigh. "Andy, your lyrics are shit," He says as he reads over his friend's work. Andy makes a face at Jon before getting up off the ground where the three of us had just been sitting.  
Jon gets up and follows Andy out of the room, leaving me alone in the dimly lit room. Its ceiling is lined with old Christmas tree lights that were never taken down, as well as a small lava lamp and some beanbag chairs. There's a small bed where any of the five of us in the band could crash during the week if we got drunk and couldn't get back to our own apartment.  
There's a trash can in the corner of the room with a piece of paper freshly taped to it. If I would take the time to go close enough to it I'd be able to see that it read "Ryan Ross' Mind Palace" on it. I take down the paper each day before and after practice but the others always sneak it back on. When the band formed we promised each other we wouldn't throw away a single sheet of lyrics as you never know what could be a hit, no matter how stupid it is.  
But, I have a slight problem with forcing myself to throw away songs written about anything. I can't get through a week of rehearsal without going through an entire notebook of junk or lyrics that make no sense. The trash can overflows with crumpled up pieces of paper, all from my music.  
Jon jokes it's my 'messed up mind palace of regrets.' In it is anyone or anything that has hurt me since the day I was born. If you ask what's in my mind palace, I'll tell you that you're probably in it, next to my alcoholic father problems and my ballerina dreams.  
No seriously, I have nightmares about ballerinas kicking me with their pointy toes while ramming into me with their tall bunheads.  
Jon claims that he knows I can still write music, it's just taking me a while to get back into it. I can perform songs that Andy or Jon have wrote perfectly well, but I can't do it myself. Even though I'm the lead singer of our band, not a single song written for our first album is written by me.  
The thing is, I still can write, I've done it. But every single song ends up about Brendon. Brendon Boyd Urie, the boy I thought I loved, who dropped me on the ground, broke my heart and stomped on me until I no longer had a wall left to hold me up.  
Everyone tried to fix me up 'good as new,' but how do you fix something that started off broken?


	4. Chapter Two

Spencer and Dallon sit next to me as I stare off into space. The quickly-moving metro doesn't leave me much time to watch where we're going, but Spence seemed to know. The two told me we were going somewhere and then pushed me out the door without telling me anything else.

I know my thoughts shouldn't end up there, but as I lean my head back against the window you come to mind. I can still see us sitting hand in hand on this exact same metro. I can almost hear your laugh as I whisper words into your ear. Short, quick messages that only make sense to us.

As the train comes to a stop and we stand up, I see Dallon and Spencer share a look. They know what I've been thinking about. They can tell from my facial expressions, from the way I'm chewing on my bottom lip, to how I'm clenching and unclenching my fists. I follow the two off, still uneasy about where we're going.

I vaguely recognize where we are, but I can't seem to figure it out. I'm getting odd déjà vu from the buildings and if it weren't for Spence and Dallon going in the other direction, I feel like something in me would be able to figure out where we are.

I stop to look around for a moment, causing the other two to stop as well. "C'mon, man, aren't you coming?" Dallon asks, grabbing my wrist to pull me along. I pull away from his grip, sighing as I walk after them.

I don't make eye contact with anyone, keeping my eyes trained on the ground. It's a trick I learned from you, one I've used since the breakup. It keeps questions from being asked.

I pull out my phone, pretending to text somebody so that no one talks to me. It's not worth much, but it'll keep my two friends from thinking I'm up for talking about you. Dallon wants to know who you were, why I thought you were so great. Spencer knows, of course, but he keeps on asking why you and Jon left.

We walk past a small strip mall, and suddenly I remember why this feels so familiar. You used to work there. You worked at the Taco Bell and whenever you came home you would always smell of Mexican food.

_"You guys, I'm home!" I look up from my guitar, setting my stuff down. A small smile lands on my face as I walk out of my room._

_"Hey," I say, leaning against the wall and making a seductive face. You smile, letting out a small laugh. I can hear Spencer drumming in the room over, but you're the only thing that matters. Of course, you don't know that._

_"Let me guess, Brendon. You spent the entire day in your room." You look me up and down, letting out another laugh. "In your pajamas, apparently." I roll my eyes at you as you walk by. "Lazy ass."_

_I shove you, and we both laugh. That's when the smell hits my nose and I gag. "Oh my god, Ryan. You smell so bad! Like crappy cheese and old salsa." You groan, looking at me._

_"You know that I spend the entire day preparing Mexican food, are you really that surprised?" You shove past me into your room, grumbling as you flop onto your bed._

_I take this as a sign you aren't in the mood to talk, but I push on and walk into your room anyway. The lights are off and you're staring at the ceiling not moving. I know this look, and the last time it appeared on your face you ended up black-out drunk and I was stuck with you in the bathroom all night while you threw up._

_It would not be something I was in the mood to repeat. When you moved in with Spencer, Jon, and I we promised to keep you safe. It looks like we aren't doing our job. "What are you doing, Bren? Why are you still here?"_

_"Because I'm your friend." You turn away from me, rubbing at your eyes. These tears aren't uncommon recently. I don't remember the last day one of the three of us didn't make you cry._

_"Are you, Brendon, are you? You certainly haven't been acting like it." I walk over to your bed, sitting next to you. You scoot away from me, but I don't move away from my spot on the edge of your bed._

_"I try, Ry, you know I do." You flinch at the nickname, and I instantly regret it. "Hey, I don't mean it, alright? I act this way because I care about you." You roll over to face me._

_"What about Jon and Spence? Why do they act like I'm a nothing?" I furrow my eyebrows at this. What are you talking about? They involve you in everything, don't they? They try as well, but you aren't exactly easy to deal with._

_"They try to, Ryan. So stop your complaining and join us for dinner, alright? Jon cooked." You tell me to give you a few minutes, so I shrug and leave._

_You never came._

You never came. "Brendon, dude, are you going to just stand there and stare at Taco Bell, or are you coming?" I follow the others into the small bar. I sit down at the counter, ordering a beer. It'll get my mind off of you, at least.

The looks we get from the bartender are serious ones, and I remember Spencer telling me that it wasn't uncommon for you to stop and get a few drinks after work before coming home.

He recognizes us. The last time we were here was before you disappeared and took Jon with you. Before you decided I wasn't right for you. "So, where are the other guys?" I look up, taken back by him talking to me.

"Hmm?" I ask, not knowing if I heard him correctly. "What'd you say?" He laughs, before pouring a drink and passing it to me.

"Where are your other friends? Scarf guy and what's his name? Did the new guy over there replace them?" he asks, pointing at Dallon. I shake my head, trying to decide how to word this.

"They're gone. He left and Jon went with him." A look crosses his face before he sighs and speaks once again.

"He broke up with you, huh." I nod, not making eye contact with the bartender. He shrugs, writing something on a piece of paper and sliding it towards me.

"Well, call me if you're ever free. I usually am." He then winks at me and walks away, leaving me confused at what just happened. Spencer turns towards me as I stare at the piece of paper.

"Did you just get hit on by the guy behind the counter?" Spencer laughs, rolling his eyes. "I'm surprised he used Ryan as a way to get you to talk." I try not to listen to Spencer. He knows that I get uncomfortable when people say your name, after what happened, how can he just throw your name around like that?

"Why are we here, Spencer? Really, why are we here?" A look crosses over Dallon's face as the two look over at me. They share a look, and Spencer shrugs. Dallon takes a deep breath before speaking in a calm voice.

"Man, you haven't been outside in weeks. Spencer and I thought it'd be a good idea for you to, um, leave the house." I glare at my two friends before getting up and walking around the bar. I stop in my tracks when I make eye contact with a girl and some of her friends across the room.

You and she have the same eyes, you know that, right? It's clearly Nicky, but I haven't seen her in months now. She disappeared just as much as you did. When she recognizes me, a smile breaks out on her face and she runs over.

"Brendon!" She gives me a hug and I awkwardly hug her back. It's not every day your ex-boyfriend's sister acts like you're her best friend. "How've you been? I've missed seeing you around!"

I shrug. "I've been alright, what about you, Nicky?" She laughs, pulling me over to her friends. I have no idea what she's doing, but hearing her voice is comforting. It has the same sound as yours.

When she places a drink in my hand, I forget that I should be getting back to Spence and Dallon. "I'm great, Brendon!" she says, finally answering my question. "You guys, this is my friend Brendon Urie. Brendon, these are Sarah Orzechowski and Hayley Williams." I recognize Hayley from pictures but Sarah's a new face to me.

I wave, giving them a small smile. Hayley waves back, laughing. "So, this is the Brendon Urie I've heard all about? Nice to finally meet you." Sarah's quiet and looks over at Nicky. Nicky slides into the booth next to Sarah, leaving me to sit next to Hayley. She scoots over and I sit down next to her. Nicky and Sarah whisper to each other looking at me a few times.

Nicky looks around and speaks, "So, how're Spencer and Dallon?" She makes a tiny grimace when she says Dallon's name, but I try to ignore her hatred for my friend. Spencer doesn't always get along with Dallon either.

"They're good. How is, um, uh-" I stumble, trying to get your name to come out of my mouth. I can't form the word on my tongue, but when Nicky sees the look on my face she understands what I'm trying to say.

"I don't honestly know. I haven't seen Ry in months now. Last time I saw him was when he called me and sounded like he'd been at the bar for hours. I don't know the last time he went outside. Jon says that he's been crossfading a lot recently. It's just a lot to take in, you know? He's my little brother for fuck's sake."

Sarah looks like she's trying to say something but then decides against it. She and Hayley share a look before Hayley turns to me. "What was Ryan to you?"

I look at her oddly before realizing I don't know what you ever were to me. A friend, a boyfriend, just a fuckbuddy? Sure, we went on dates, held hands, kissed each other, even made love once in awhile, but we never officially announced that we were dating.

We never announced that the reason you left was that we broke up. All we said was that we'd had creative differences and needed some time off. I quickly decided it was wrong to leave the fans like that, so I reassembled the pieces and Spencer and I continued on without you. We begged Jon to join us but just one look at how broken you were and he shook his head and left.

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. Nicky sees this and tries to change the topic. She knows how hard this is for me. For both of us. Nicky was the one person I could talk to when things were hard between you and me. You were her brother, her other half.

But Hayley doesn't let it go. "Nic, just a sec. Brendon, what were you and Ryan?" You and Ryan. Three words that haven't been spoken to me since you left. I decide that a little white lie can't hurt anyone, so I speak.

"Nothing special, Hayley, really. We were just friends." She sputters as she tries to hold in a laugh. She and Sarah make eye contact before cracking up and stopping trying to hold in their giggles. Nicky rolls her eyes at her friends before turning to me.

"Brendon, don't worry about telling them. They know enough from what Ry told them. I think Hayley just wants to be a pushy bitch and not let it go." What you told them? Were you close to Nicky's friends?

Hayley tries to speak through her laughs but fails as she chokes on her drink. "Just friends? Brendon, do you really think I'm that dumb? Ryan never stopped talking about you. 'Just friends' don't talk about the other person constantly." She is right about that. When I would visit my siblings and high school friends I would find myself talking about you more than Jon and Spence.

In fact, I talked about you more than I talked about how I was doing. It was always about you. Ryan Ross, my best friend. Ryan Ross, the light of my and all my friends' worlds.

You always made everyone happy when you walked into the room. Everyone couldn't help but smile when you showed up. Last time you and I visited Kara and her husband, my sister joked that she hadn't smiled that much since the last time we'd visited.

Everyone had always said that I'd started to become happier after I'd met you. I seemed more like the crazy hyper Brendon that I'd been as a kid. I'd become the crazy hyper Brendon I was supposed to be. The one who disappeared when you left.

_"I can't fucking do this anymore!" You yell as you toss your guitar to the floor. I grab your arm, but you slide out of my grasp as easily as if your wrists were covered in the non-stick cooking spray we used to use when Jon and you would make food for the three of us and Spencer on Sunday nights. "Fucking hell, Brendon, let me go!"_

_I don't grab at you anymore, but I sit here shaking my head as you cry. The thick tears roll down your cheeks as you rock back and forth, looking at your guitar you'd thrown seconds ago. I can tell you already regret it. The hairline fracture through the neck of your instrument seems to be the most prominent thing in this situation._

_"My- my guitar..." you stutter, and even though it didn't seem possible your sobs become harder and you rock back and forth even more. "I got that for my sixteenth birthday. I've had that through everything! I broke it, Brendon, I broke it!" you whimper, wrapping your arms around me and sobbing._

_"Hey, hey, hey. Ry, we can fix it, I promise." But I know it's not possible. I broke a guitar like that once and I had to give up when I learned it would cost thousands of dollars to fix. We don't have that kind of money to throw out when our kitchen counter overflowing with anti-depressants and medications for your anxiety costs us a few hundred dollars a week. It's fixing your guitar or going weeks without meds to keep things like this from not happening again._

_I know, by the way. I know you're not taking your medicine to keep your anger in check. I'm not an idiot, Ryan, I know. I heard you flushing handfuls of pills down the toilet this weekend. You tell Jon and I you take them, but we both know you don't. Not to mention the fact that you're not supposed to take them and drink within five hours between the two, and you wouldn't make it that long._

_Besides the fact that our counter could be a drug store, our cabinets are spilling over with different alcohols and the old wrappings of smoked through cigarettes. Things you claimed you stopped using months ago._

_"Bren, you can't fix it. We can't afford that." I nod when you speak the exact same thing I'd been thinking._

_"I'll talk to Jon about getting it fixed, alright? I'm sure maybe Nicky can toss in a few hundred bucks to help. Get some sleep, alright? It might help." You nod, and I pick you up carefully and carry you back to your bedroom. Setting you on the bed, I pull back the covers, tucking you in. You're already asleep, and it took us maybe twenty seconds to get from the studio to your room. Just like the old times._

_I press a kiss to your temple, mumbling a quick 'I love you' I know you won't hear before flicking the light switch to the off position and closing the door behind me. I pull out my phone, ringing a number I wish was no longer in it._

_It rings, once, twice, three times. I almost think that he won't pick up, but I sigh when it clicks on the other end of the call. "Brendon? What's going on?" I push my hair out of my eyes, letting out a breath of exhaustion._

_"Brent? How fast can you get to us? Maybe two hours?" He laughs, and I hear rustling on his end. The sound of car keys being picked up off a table. The sound of a door slamming shut behind him._

_"I'll be there in a little while. Get Ryan and Spencer out of the house before I get there, you know how they both reacted when I showed up last time." The sound of a seat belt clicking into place._

_I groan, looking at the clock. How long can I keep you asleep? "That's the thing. It has to do with Ryan."_

_Silence. I start to wonder if I did something wrong until he lets out a laugh and replies. "You want me to drive ninety minutes to help my ex-boyfriend? Wow, this like an episode of a cringy romantic comedy." I sigh._

_"Brent, c'mon. Dude, he threw his guitar on the ground. That's not fixable. The split is right through the neck of it." I hear him sigh and the sound of tires rolling down the street._

_"I'm on my way. Tell me what happened?" I glance at the door where you're asleep on the other side. It had been an accident, I hadn't meant to get mad._

_"We were working on something for the album, just a quick filler song, one that Spencer and Jon wouldn't have much to tweak with. We started arguing about a lyric, something so stupid, and I smacked his arm as a joke. Clearly, he didn't see it as one though. He started yelling, and then he threw his guitar. And I-"_

_"Brendon," Brent cuts me off. "What'd you say? He just threw it? Man, there's no way that's the whole story." He's right. It's not the whole story. You kissed me and instead of pushing you away we made out and groped each other until I realized what I was doing and pushed you away. Then I hit you. Then we started arguing. Then you threw your guitar. I just wasn't going to mention the first part._

_But how do you tell someone that a split second decision ended up with you making it to second base with their ex? You and I weren't anything special, it'd been a spur-of-the-moment kiss or two once in awhile, falling asleep next to each other after watching tv, but nothing like this before._

_That'd been what we were arguing about. Not continuing on as two people who could act like this never happened. Like we were just best friends. Jon had actually asked me if there was something between the two of us, but I quickly denied it. It wasn't like we wouldn't be accepted with open arms by our friends, we just weren't ready for that._

_We had liked the idea of being Ryan and Brendon, best friends taking on the world by storm. Not Ryan and Brendon, best friends turned to lovers. We didn't want to be something, at least, not right now._

_"ImadeoutwithRyanIdidn'tmeantopleasedon'thateme." I mumble as quickly as I can and I almost think that he's hung up on me until I hear him laugh._

_"You what? You made out with my ex-boyfriend? Wow, Brendon, I never would have seen you as the sort of person who would do that. I thought we were friends. We had a pact, remember? We wouldn't date the other person's ex, no matter what. When I was into that one girl from senior year and I saw that you were upset about it I dropped it, didn't I?"_

_I sigh. "Brent, the thing is, I'm not even into Ry. He and I are just friends. It was a split second decision. He was upset and I didn't want to turn him away. He kissed me, I just...didn't stop him."_

_I hear his engine turn off and I can almost imagine him pulling to the side of the road to think. He used to do this a lot when we went places for the_ A Fever You Can't Sweat Out _tour. We would drive twenty minutes then stop to rest. Drive another twenty minutes, stop to rest._

_You first did it, but the rest of us picked up on your bitter habit after spending hours with you that summer. That perfect summer where nothing mattered except illegally getting drunk and having fun. Meeting fans every other night. Everything changed when Brent left. It left a gap next to you that Spencer and Jon pushed me into. It had always been Brent and Ryan._

_The two who everyone knew were making out in the gas station bathrooms stops. Silently fucking in their hotel room so that Spencer and I wouldn't know it was happening in the next room over._

_But then Brent fucked everyone over and disappeared in the middle of the tour. So we only had the choice to replace him. At the time it didn't seem like there were any other options. We brought Jon Walker into our lives, and we quickly fell in love with him. He was the sweetest human any of us had ever met, always going out of his way to make other's happy, cracking jokes and putting a smile on your face when no one else could._

_The crinkles by his eyes made him like an older brother to us, the one none of us ever had. His laughter was infectious, and he never ceased to put a twist on things that made all of us constantly talk and become like a family. Even when you floated away from the rest of us, Jon was the one who pulled you back like a yo-yo._

_"Brendon, that's the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard," Brent snaps, pulling me back to the present. "I'm not an idiot. Do you think I didn't see you every time you spent hours eyeing him?"_

_I collapse onto the sofa, putting my head in my hands. Even as Brent silently wishes I were dead I hear him pull back onto the road and start again. "I'm coming. I'll be there in about ninety minutes. What exactly do you expect me to be doing?" I sigh, letting out a loud groan._

_"I don't know. Talk to Ryan. Get his mind off the fact that his most prized possession is broken and isn't getting fixed, I don't know!" My yelling causes a door to open by the kitchen, and my friend walks out. Jon looks at me, suspiciously before sitting down next to me._

_"Who's on the phone?" he quietly asks, and I cover up the small microphone on my cell before turning back to him. Jon never meant Brent, but he knows enough about him for this conversation to be rocky._

_"Brent, why?" A look of disgust crosses over Jon's face. I sigh before telling Brent I'll talk to him later and hanging up. "What do you have against my friend, Walker?"_

_Jon laughs. "Nothing, I just don't think it's smart to bring the guy who almost caused Ryan to commit suicide back into our house. I know that you guys didn't postpone the tour after he left just because you needed a bassist. Sure, that was part of the reason, but Spencer said Ryan was in the hospital for three days."_

_I nod before looking away from Jon. It's true, that Brent leaving made you almost overdose. If Spencer and I hadn't found him he wouldn't be here. But I also think that Brent is the only one who can fix him. I don't want Brent coming back for good, but maybe if you and Brent could actually talk to each other without strangling the other person your mental state would be better._

"Brendon!" I look up at my friend who's staring at me like I'm insane. "I've been saying your name for literally three minutes now, what the hell is wrong with you?"

I sigh, looking back at where Spencer and Dallon are laughing and conversing with the bartender. It's no use trying to go back to that. They'll think that I can laugh and talk with them like nothing ever happened.

Like the fact that this is the last place you were ever seen by Spencer or I. It was a night where everything went wrong, and I've tried to push the details of it out of my mind.

You disappeared like that. We hadn't meant for it to have happened, it had been a split second decision where we yelled and you ran off. A month later Jon finally told us you'd been found halfway across the country.

We'd gotten home from touring for  _Pretty. Odd._  for months. We decided we deserved a few drinks, so we ran, wild and free, to the bar closest to the house all four of us were living in. Jon and you were a bit slow to get there so we ordered your usuals- drinks on me- and got drunk out of our minds.

We had way too much to drink, and you and I ended up sloppily making out at the exact bar that my friends are sitting at now. Spencer had his camera with him that night, and along with taking a bunch of photos of the four of us he secretly filmed the two of us hoping he could use it to blackmail us in the future.

He never needed it, because you got mad and started to yell at him. You and Spencer got into a fist fight and when I tried to stop it you punched me too. You started to yell at all of us, even the bartender who I'm surprised still works here. When you accidentally punched the bartender, you got escorted out of the bar and the rest of us stumbled out after you. It was no use ditching you.

You then yelled at us for a few more minutes before rushing off in tears. I didn't see you again after that. 

Jon then quickly headed back to our house before calling us to say that your car was gone. He got in his car and drove anywhere you could be. We didn't find you for a month where you were living out of your ex-boyfriend Brock's apartment in the middle of Vegas where none of us had been since our tour stop.

I look at Spencer and Dallon again. Spencer and I make eye contact before I start to wonder if he still has the videos of us from that night. It would be like an archive of moments with you and I. Something I don't know if I want to see.

But I also do want to see them. They would show that what we had wasn't a stupid fling that disappeared like snow the moment the sun poked through the clouds.

Nicky looks over at me as I think. "You alright, Bren?" I nod, sighing. I need to go home. Talk to Spencer about the videos. Go to bed.

"Nic, it was really nice seeing you and all, but I need to go. We're going to the studio bright and early tomorrow morning and I really don't want to have a hangover while we're recording." 

"I totally get it." She nods. "I'll text you, alright? We totally need to catch up. Just because Ryan and you don't talk anymore doesn't mean that we need to stop." she finishes, smiling. I get up and walk back to where my other friends are sitting.

Spencer looks up at me, a look crossing his face when he sees who I was talking to. "Dude, what is she doing here?" I look over at where Nicky is sitting talking with her hands a blur of happiness and smiles. "I thought she disappeared like Ryan."

I shrug. "I don't know, but she and her friends are here and she seems like herself. She mentioned the breakup, but then dropped it and continued talking to Sarah and Hayley about whatever they'd been talking about before she made me sit with them." Spencer looks over at them and blinks a few times before shaking his head.

"Wait, wait, wait, her friend Hayley? As in Hayley Williams?" I nod. "I thought she lived in New York! And now she's here in Vegas?" I shrug. I never knew much about Hayley, only from what I saw of her on Nicky's Facebook.

"I don't know. Maybe she's visiting Nicky. She's in that pop punk band, Paramore, right?"

Spencer shrugs. "I don't know. She's in a band, I know that, but I don't know if they're that big of a band. I think they just have a small following. Is Sarah the girlfriend Nicky was talking about? Her last name is Orzechowski, right?" I nod.

"I guess I didn't realize that she's Nicky's girlfriend. How long have they been dating?" Spencer thinks for a second.

"A few months, I think. I think they met after Ryan...you know. Disappeared. You ready to head back to the house?" I nod, pulling my coat over my arms. It's oddly cold in here and I shiver under the dim lights of the bar.

Spencer nudges Dallon's arm and points towards the door. Dallon pushes his half-empty glass away from him and stands up, leaving a tip for the bartender. We walk back to the metro station in silence, all bundled up in our own thoughts.

When the train gets to the station we all board, but the ride back home is just as quiet. Spencer listens to music, drumming on his lap with his pointer fingers and Dallon texts someone throughout the entire twenty minute ride.

But I don't listen to music, I don't think about how we have to go into the studio tomorrow and how Dallon can barely stand up from how drunk he is (and how he'll definitely have a hangover in the morning), and I definitely don't think about you or Nicky. But instead, I try to make my mind as blank as possible, pushing all and any thoughts out of my brain.

But something still nags in the corner of my mind. The fact that I'd forgotten about the videotapes, the fact that Spencer probably still has them. I tap Spence on the arm, and he looks up from his lap where his eyes had been fixed for a while. He pulls out an earbud and looks at me.

"What's up, kid?" he asks, using the nickname for me that he started using and never stopped even though I'm several months older than him. "Is it about Ryan?" he says before I can say anything.

I look at him, honestly not that surprised that he knew exactly what I was going to say. "Yeah, I guess. Actually, it's about the last time we were at the bar. Do you remember how you had your camera with you?" He thinks for a second before nodding.

"Yeah, why? Is it about the photos I took? Because if so, I burned them. I knew you'd come asking for them at some point, and I don't want to put you through that. As your best friend, I know you don't deserve that. I deleted them from my camera after printing them out." I feel my face fall as he says that the photos are gone.

"But wouldn't you want some of them? You didn't even put them on a flash drive or anything?" Spence is known for being a bit of a hoarder when it comes to things that remind him of his friends, and he has entire boxes of flash drives filled to their holding capacity of photos and videos along with a few documents he might want later. There's an entire box just of things from while we were working on Pretty. Odd.

He sighs. "Fine, they're on a flash drive, but I don't know which one, and I already have around a half a box worth of ones I've developed since the split. You're welcome to go through them to find the photos but I can't promise it won't take you weeks to find which one they're on. Now leave me alone until we get back to the house, alright?" I groan, shoving his arm and looking out the window.

I need to see those photos. If he didn't want me seeing them, he most definitely doesn't want me seeing the videos, if he even remembers he has them. My thoughts are interrupted by Dallon snoring next to me. I poke his face, but he doesn't stur. I smile, poking him again. Spencer looks over at me giggling at how our friend isn't waking up. "You're so immature." he says, rolling his eyes.

Dallon sturs, groaning and smacking my hand away from his face. "Go away. We're almost to the station." I sigh, looking away. The metro pulls to a stop and the doors open, but none of us move right away. Spencer gets up and walks off, Dallon and I following quietly.

We walk the half mile back to the house, and I unlock the door before walking through and sitting on the couch in the main room. "You alright, Brendon?" I nod, putting my head down so that they don't see the silent tears on my cheeks. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to last living in this house. We spent so long living here before you and Jon left and now it doesn't feel the same. Spencer and I decided not to touch your room after you left. I can't even force myself to go in there if I wanted to.

We cleared out Jon's stuff and mailed it to him, but he hadn't had that much stuff in the first place. Your room is different. Everything is still in its place, according to Spence, who goes in there every once in a while to check that nothing needs dusting off or clearing out spiderwebs. But I haven't looked in there since you left.

I wait in the living room until Dallon and Spencer go back to their rooms and I stand up and walk over to the hanging wall mirror. I don't even look like myself anymore. I look like I've aged decades in only months. My hair is thinning, my skin is paler than it ever was when you were around, and I'm skinnier. I know if I were to lift up my shirt I'd be able to see my ribs through my stomach.

I sigh, flattening my shirt down and looking away from the mirror. No matter what I do I won't be my old self anymore. I speak differently, I act different around my friends, and I've become someone even I don't recognize anymore. I walk to my room, stopping by the closed door to your room.

I put my hand on the doorknob, daring myself to push aside my feelings and just go inside. But I can't. I can't get past the fact that you're gone. Spencer tells me to just forget about you, but it's not that easy. I can't forget the best years of my life.

But I also can't forget the worst ones.


End file.
